


The complete report and documents on the experiments of Dr. Henry Clement

by Friend2fandomz



Category: Original Work, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Blood and Gore, But only in some chapters, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Dark Academia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fantasy setting, Feral Behavior, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inappropriate Humor, Major Original Character(s), Maybe relationships to come?, Not Canon Compliant, Original Fantasy World, Probably some unnecessary commas, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sannligrviegr (Original world), Self-Hatred, Steampunk, Suicidal Thoughts, Unfinished, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Abuse, Victorian Attitudes, inspiration from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friend2fandomz/pseuds/Friend2fandomz
Summary: Dr. Henry Clement, an outcast is the scientific community, has developed a potion that will separate his personality in two. Little did he know that his second personality has a conscious of it's own, and is quite unlike what Clement first theorized it to be: Not a split between good and evil, but a split between what he considers positive and negative. Will he be able to reason with his dark alter ego, Mr. Arthur Gloam? Or will Clement be forced to take the life of Gloam into his own hands?(I came up with original names for characters, just so I don't get in trouble for stealing work. Do let me know if I can change them back to their cannon names. This IS a rewrite of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but I wanted to make it a bit shippy-ier, to elaborate on the friendship between Jekyll, Utterson, and Lanyon, and to flesh out Hyde as a character a bit more. This is going to be cringe af, so buckle your seatbelts, kids.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	The complete report and documents on the experiments of Dr. Henry Clement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corvidayyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidayyy/gifts).



> Please let me know if I made any mistakes, they will be corrected as soon as spotted. Please leave any questions or criticisms in the comments, I would appreciate that so much. <3

_What can drive a man to do such treacherous acts against a fellow man? Trust when I say, this was an attack against society. Naturally, an attack on society will cause it to rear its head and try to buck off whatever just struck it; it will attack back._   
_Our little community of ToëNayle, on the west side of Sannligrviegr, on a small island just 70 miles of the coast, has just experienced its first possible serial killing in nearly 5 years, and everyone is quite excited._   
_After Jack the Ripper had fled London, and made landfall in our humble town, he had gone on a second (albeit, less bloody) spree. He had only gotten to 2 women before being detained, all thanks to our wonderful law enforcement, and he was hung a month after. I never showed up to the actual execution, but I read the papers the morning after it all happened._   
_As I was saying, that was nearly 5 years ago; there’s been a more recent murder. One of my dearest friends, Elias Harrow, was telling me yesterday how the police found a body in the river. He hadn’t seen it for himself, but rumour has it that it was missing all of its organs, including the brain. Funny thing, he says, is that the top of the skull had been sawn clean off, and it, along with the scalp, was found floating in the river a few miles behind the body._   
_Some suspect that some doctor or other had gone on for a body-snatching. The College just 2 rows down from my plot, The Doctoral College of Northern ToëNayle, will likely be getting new organs to use for transplants. I expect that they won't be turning over any donated body parts to the proper authorities, due to the lack of decent organs nowadays. No one has wanted to donate either, which is frustrating on my being a Medicinal and Surgical Doctor._   
_Quite a shame as well, Harrow adds, that the body had been found to be rotting and almost 3 weeks past the initial date of kicking the bucket. No foul play could be determined from the autopsy; what was determined, however, was that the man had died of a heart attack. He was probably on an evening stroll when his heart suddenly stopped; he fell into the river, probably off a bridge by the channel, and floated for a bit, likely drowning as well. He was probably scooped out of the river a few hours later and harvested for organs, then thrown back like a fish._   
_He also could have been murdered, as I prefer to think of it as; it’s much more interesting. Due to the brand of shoes he was wearing, which is quite expensive and only available in North ToëNayle, as my friend Malcolm DeSoto explained, he must have been from an aristocratic family. An enemy, perhaps a poorer citizen with a bad case of green eyes, perhaps poked a jest at the man. They likely got into an argument when the man’s blood pressure almost burst a vein, which caused the heart attack. As the man died, his attacker must have panicked. He either sold the organs immediately and dumped the body, or he pushed the body into the river, hoping it never came back into questioning. We all suspect that it was no accident. (By we, I mean Harrow, DeSoto, and I.)_   
_Malcolm has been wanting to go into forensics lately, after reading one of those fascinating english-crime novels, and he hasn’t been able to put down the articles on ‘How to properly search a room for evidence’ or ‘Different types of gunshot wounds.’ I envy you, my friend. He has such an astonishing ability to become interested in topics, learn a skill within a month, and then master that skill, only to become obsessed with a new topic, starting the cycle anew. It’s not a bad thing. Not at all. In fact, I find it quite endearing. Harrow and I both joke that when you wish to learn something new, you take the current fixation out of your head and store it in that hat of yours, to make room for the newest skillset. It makes sense to me, to say the least._   
_-signed,_   
_Doctor Henry Joshua Clement, Ph.d._

“Henry,” DeSoto sighed. “Your diary is worded like you’re writing to a stranger. You know all of our names, you know the news, and you know about my chronic hyperfixation.”  
Clement, who was mixing chemicals of various sorts, set down the test tubes in a rack and snatched the book away from his companion. “Hand that back, don’t you ever respect a man’s privacy?”  
He dusted it off and put it back on his shelf, staring at it a moment longer than he should have.  
“Besides,” He reasoned, affectionately tapping his glove on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Memory loss runs in my family; I want to remember everything I possibly can, especially you chaps.”  
“Reasonable,” Someone from the upper corner of the theatre said. “I would want to remember my prime till the end of time, even if it meant forgetting everything else.”  
“Elias, my dear boy, if you were to only remember your prime, you would perhaps forget your childhood, or your golden years as well,” DeSoto projected back at Harrow. “You would forget your father. Or you could forget your fiance.”  
Clement wrinkled his nose. “I find it abhorrent that we should find a fiance to be with forever. Quite depressing, in my opinion.”  
Elias Harrow, who was reclining at the top furthest right seat in Henry’s personal surgical theatre, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward a bit.  
“‘A fiance’? Why did you say it like that? And with such distaste as well? One might begin to think you had just suffered an estrangement.”  
“Oh, Don’t bother the poor lad about it any more than you need to,” DeSoto groaned. “She was quite certain that she hated Henry, and him the same.”  
“He did suffer an estrangement!” Harrow gasped. “How long has it been? How come you never told me?”  
“I did tell you,” Clement said, now dusting the inside of a beaker with some sort of salt. “You just never listened.”  
“I do listen!” Harrow whined back at the other, who was far too engrossed in his work to pay attention to conversation. “Harry, do tell me: how did it all go down?”  
“Did Malcolm not just say? We didn’t love each other. Neither of us could stand the presence of one another. Can we change the subject?”  
“I’m so sorry I made you propose to her,” Elias lamented. “If I had known-”  
He was cut off by DeSoto, “She’s gone now, I’m afraid. Now, didn't Henry just tell you to change the subject?”  
“Sorry, Sorry,” Harrow apologized. “What is it that you’re working on?”  
“It’s a medication,” Clement replied. “A regular customer of mine has a prescription for a migraine, stomachache, hangover, and boredom cure-all.”  
“Does it work?” Asked DeSoto.  
Henry whipped around with the tube still in his rubber grip. “Of course it works!” He prattled. “I’m the one who invented it.”  
“What’s in it anyways?” puzzled Harrow. “Do you think it can cure cancer?”  
“Oh, just a few things I threw together,” Clement sang. “Thank God I wrote it down, or I wouldn’t be getting any income.”  
He bobbed his head in the direction of his second desk, where a slip of paper had a list scrawled messily into the parchment.  
“Tonic, Benzoylmethylecgonine, Papaver somniferum, Chloroform, Cannabis Indica, 10% alcohol, Hydrogen Sulfide, E-coli, and Lavender extract,” Harrow read.  
“Henry, you’re a genius! A mad one, I’ll say that, but you actually came up with a cure-all!” DeSoto exclaimed, leaning over Harrow’s shoulder to read.  
“How did you know that it’s a ‘cure-all’?” Harrow queried. “Surely the Collage didn’t have any more prisoners left to use as volunteers?”  
Henry laughed, now pouring the concoction into a small bottle. “I drank it myself. Quite effective, in fact; using yourself as a test subject. What’s the face for?”  
Malcolm hesitated, brow furrowing. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”  
“Oh assuredly it is,” Henry concluded. “But there are no more bodies left to be donated from the Collage, and I could never do it to a rat or a guinea pig; they wouldn't be able to properly convey results to me. I also find it morally apprehensive to use a ‘test subject’; If you wouldn’t do it to yourself, don’t do it to others.”  
“Then why do it at all?” Elias asked.  
“Scientific progress, Gentlemen,” Clement grinned. “I’ve been hoping to start a new trend among the gentlemen at the Scientific Society. I’m sure my friends at the Philosophical Society would enjoy hearing about it as well.”  
Elias and Malcolm glanced at each other, unsure on how to continue conversation.  
“Henry,” Malcolm began. Clement turned around from his work to face his friends.  
“We appreciate your enthusiasm to further scientific research, as well as your enthusiasm to remain moral; I’d like to ask you to be exempt from your reckless behavior.”  
Henry set down the bottle of chemicals and suppressed a confused chuckle. “I beg your pardon?”  
“All I’m trying to say is that you’re risking your life for something as trivial as medicine, and I would rather you live as a sinner than die as a martyr. One wrong ingredient in your Apothecary could cause a bad reaction, and you and everyone you know would have to pay the price.”  
Henry sighed and took off his gloves and pulled his goggles over his head.  
“I apologize for my recklessness, I hadn’t seen it like that. In the future, I won’t be testing anything upon myself.”  
“Truly?” Harrow asked, putting his hand delicately on his companions shoulder.  
“Truly,” Clement replied, now wrapping the bottle in brown paper, and tying it with a string. “I have enough money, I could hire a few people to test for me. Besides, I had no plans to develop any new medicines any time soon.”  
“That’s wonderful news!” DeSoto exclaimed. “What do you plan on doing in the meantime?”  
And Henry thought, placing his hand on his chin to properly arrange his musings.  
“I suppose I should focus on my charity hospital. What with the flu-season coming soon and almost half the population not being able to afford any vaccines, I feel as if I should open up shop for the season.”  
“We’ll be standing behind you when you do,” DeSoto confided.  
Although Clement greatly prided his work, he would always choose his friends first and foremost. Though Malcolm was overbearing and picky, and Elias was whiny and self absorbed, Henry always found a way to make time and effort go into his companions. He would let them sit in his laboratory and talk to him, he would offer to buy them lunches, and he would listen to them gossip about the latest goings on in town.  
“Henry,” Harrow piped. “We ought to get going; were going to be late.”  
Clement glanced at his pocket watch and read the time: 2:25 pm. They had precisely 5 minutes to get out the door and to the Gentlemen's Society. Surely not enough time.  
“I’m not coming,” Clement muttered. He averted his eyes and wiped his workspace down with a rag.  
“Why not?” Harrow asked, almost accusingly. “I’m sure everyone up there would be pleased to know that you're still alive.”  
“I saw how both of you reacted to my methods, and I’m positive that everyone would ostracize me for my particular experiments in medicine.”  
“Oh, Harry,” DeSoto hummed. “Everyone has been asking about you though.”  
“And what did you answer?”  
“Simply that you mean to return as soon as your next major project is completed.”  
“But I don’t. You, I, and The Society know that's a lie.”  
“Then make it true,” Harrow chimed in. “You certainly could show off your new ‘cure-all’; I’m sure everyone would be quite impressed at your craftsmanship and medical knowledge.”  
Clement sighed. “I suppose I could pop in to see what everyone else has done, and sneak out a bit later.”  
“That’s the spirit!” DeSoto bubbled jovially. “Come, grab your coat and we’ll be off.”  
Henry groaned in false annoyance, wiggling his arms into his coat and snatching up his umbrella from the front door. He shoved the mixture of substances into his pocket, safely patting it to be sure it was secure.

The Society of Scientifically Inclined Gentlemen was located at the centre of the Northern side of town. This is the building which upper class, educated people came to gather and hold clubs and meetings and balls. It was a large tower constructed of large limestone bricks, lower hallways held up by marble pillars, and internally decorated with tapestries, oil paintings, and modern inventions. The stairs leading up to the main room spiraled up like a hurricane lain in red velvet and granted golden handrails. Several famous men and women from all over Sannligrevegr had come to see its beauty and splendor, and to engage in intimate conversations on Philosophical, Artistic, Scientific, and Mathematical discoveries they had made, furthering The Society in their quest for knowledge.  
The main room was large and circular, containing enough room for almost 30 men to roam about freely. It contained a fireplace and hearth, upon which sat photos of members of The Scientists Coalition. There was a lounge where members could sit and smoke, or listen to the phonograph as they pleased. There were tables in the centre of the comfortable seats where you could order any refreshments, play cards, or simply talk to fellow scientists. About 5 different tables and groups of chairs sat around the room, and almost every seat was occupied.  
Everyone had brought their latest discoveries: New species of birds, jetpacks, golden flakes formed from nothing but air, treasure discovered from ancient relics, clockwork servants, pictures of newly discovered planets and stars, theories on morality and where we come from, novels of great adventures, blueprints for buildings of colossal proportions, portraits of charming men, divine women, and pulchritudinous enbies, and everything beyond your wildest imagination.  
The trio of Clement, Harrow, and DeSoto entered through the door, handing their coats and hats over to a butler.  
“Malcolm! Malcolm!” A fellow called, over the quiet din of exchanged pleasantries.  
“Ah,” DeSoto exclaimed. “Dr. Attington! So good to see you again, my boy! How goes?”  
“Splendidly,” Attington replied, shaking Malcolm’s hand firmly. “I’ve only recently gotten asked to commission a blueprint for a flying-ship. I could really use your expertise, would you like to review it?”  
“Of course,” DeSoto said. “Let’s take a look shall we?”  
“Could I get Mr. Harrow to come along as well? He’s recently sent me a letter explaining his latest project, and I think it might come in handy.”  
Clement felt a prickling at the back of his neck. “Can I help, by chance?”  
Attington turned around to glance at Clement, who was nervously wringing his hands.  
“I-,” Attington hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t know you knew how engineering works?”  
“Er, I don’t, precisely.”  
“I’d think you’d be more comfortable discussing with Agatha. It's a shame you stopped seeing her, shes been quite depressed lately. She’s been quite wanting to meet you after you discovered that bioluminescent star algae. I’d want to let her explain it, quite fascinating stuff, really.”  
“I- suppose I could?”  
“Good man!” Attington exulted. “She’s over by the rest of the Chemists and Alchemists, by the corner, you see?”  
He pointed to the left, uppermost corner, where a congregation of men and women in lab coats and goggles and gloves all confided listlessly on projects they’ve recently gotten engaged in, and on theories they most agreed upon.  
Clement gulped, and strode over, thinking of anything but his ‘cure-all.’  
This was going to be a disaster.


End file.
